Next of Kin
by Lennelle
Summary: Jody Mills gets a call from a mental hospital two states away.
1. Next of Kin

Another prompt fill from ohsam's Triple Play. The prompt was 1)mental hospital 2)Jody 3) next of kin

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She's alone when she gets the call, as she is often these days in her empty house with its empty rooms. She doesn't often get a call to her personal cell, whereas her work phone is overloaded with messages.

She almost doesn't answer. She's not sure if she wants to get involved in whatever it is that waits for her on the other end of the line. In the end, she picks it up. Something tells her it's urgent.

She learns that two states away in a mental hospital, Sam Winchester is kept on a locked ward. She also learns that she is his next of kin. She calls work and tells them she won't be in tomorrow, then she climbs in her truck and starts driving.

"Found wandering the streets," the doctor tells her. "He was dehydrated, hadn't eaten in a while. Someone called the cops because he'd cut himself, smeared his blood all over the place. He's clearly delusional, hallucinating. Sam was admitted a few months ago to a Northern Indiana state hospital. Do you know why he was released early, Miss Mills?"

Jody doesn't have an answer. She doesn't really know. She barely knows a thing about Sam. Never knew he'd been hospitalised before. All the while, she wonders where Dean is.

"Was there anyone else listed as next of kin?" she asks.

The doctor checks the file. "There's a brother listed here, Dean Smith, but we've failed to get into contact with him. You were the second person listed. What is your relation to the patient?"

"Um. I'm his aunt," Jody says without thinking. "Can I see him?"

The doctor nods, holds the door open for her on their way out of his office. The door to the locked ward is giant and heavy and it makes an awful grating buzz when it opens. Everything is uniform and dull white. The lights are yellow and sickly.

Sam Winchester is dressed in the same costume as the rest of the place: off-white clothes, soft shoes, plastic wrist band, bandaged palms. He's sitting on the edge of the bed, knuckles to his forehead. The man who shot her son.

"Sam?" the doctor says. "Your aunt is here."

Sam looks up, confused. When he notices Jody his eyes widen and he gets to his feet, slow and deliberate like he's aching all over.

"I'll give you both a minute," says the doctor. He leaves the door open an inch behind him. Jody turns to Sam.

"What happened? Are you okay?"

Sam shakes his head, smiles grimly. "I got into a mess, huh? I was - I was working a job. I don't know what happened. Someone saw something they shouldn't have seen, you know? Thought I was crazy, locked me up here."

Jody stares at him. His hair is longer than she remembers and he has stubble around his jaw that looks maybe two weeks old. "Is that all that happened?" she asks. "Where's Dean?"

Sam flinches. The smallest tick of his shoulders.

"Dean..." he says. He clenches his eyes closed, rubs his cheek. "That's all that happened. Dean's here. He's coming back. He won't be gone for long."

Jody hesitantly reaches out and places her hand on his arm. He seems to relax a little under her touch, she guides him back to the bed and pushes him down to sit.

"Dean's in the hospital?" she asks.

Sam shakes his head, frustrated. "He was - he's here. He's somewhere. He wouldn't leave me. I just have to find him and... and I was so close before they stopped me. You have to get me out of here, Jody. They think I'm crazy."

"Okay," Jody says softly. "If you tell me where Dean is, I'll find him for you. The doctor said they couldn't get in contact with him. Where did you last see him?"

"SucroCorp," Sam whispers, staring at the door. "We have to go."

"SucroCorp?" Jody repeats. She saw it on the news, how Dick Roman just vanished into thin air, how the company fell to pieces so suddenly. The media called it a mystery, but Jody knew the truth about the Leviathans. She'd always suspected the Winchesters were involved with what happened at SucroCorp. But that happened three weeks ago. If that was the last place Sam saw his brother...

"Sam, how long have you been on your own?" she asks.

"I'm not on my own," Sam denies. "Dean's coming back. Cas, too. I just need to find them."

She's stroking his head and she doesn't remember forming the thought to do it. She used to do this with Owen to calm him down when he got upset. She did it a lot when Owen got sick, she remembers how frail he was, how scared he was. Sam doesn't seem to mind it, he's too busy bouncing his legs and staring at the door.

She can see a little bit of blood seeping the his bandaged palms. Long slices he'd made himself. She can see how sick he is.

"Okay. Okay, Sam," she says. "We'll find Dean. You just need to rest a bit. I can see how tired you are."

Sam looks at her. "I am... I just. Dean's coming back soon."

"I'll keep an eye out for him," she promises. "I'll wake you up if he gets here while you're sleeping."

Sam hesitates for a moment, eyes on the door, then he lies down. "We have to find him, Jody. He's coming back. He will. He didn't leave me. Why does everyone leave? Looks like you are well and truly on your own."

"You're not on your own, Sam," she says. "I'm here."

She knows. She just knows that Dean is dead. Whatever happened, it was something awful.

Jody finds a spare blanket in the bedside cupboard and she drapes it over him.

"I'm here," she promises Sam. "I'm not leaving you."

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 **A/N** Still have a couple more to post, and I may fill some more before then. I have no idea how I'm managing to write so much, honestly.


	2. Handyman

It's been a loooong time since I posted the first part of this, and I didn't think I'd write any more, but I had a sudden urge to revisit this fic. I'll warn you that I can't promise any more being added to this. It definitely won't end up as a multi-chapter story, maybe just a little 'verse with a few instalments, it depends what my imagination allows. I know a lot of you wanted more chapters so I hope you enjoy this.

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It's cold, grey skies heavy with oncoming rain. The weather has been terrible lately, but that hasn't stopped Jody. She parks in the usual space, the wind batting at her as soon as she opens her car door. She squints as rain starts spitting and quickly grabs the Tupperware box that sits on the passenger seat.

The staff know her, have seen her most days for the past five weeks, and they smile and point her towards the recreation room. This place is nicer than the one she'd found Sam in, the windows are bigger, the walls are brighter, the air is fresher. Luckily, it's only a forty minute drive from Jody's house. She could visit Sam every day, if she wanted. She doesn't, and she tells herself it's because she's busy with work.

Jody has always liked the Winchesters. Well, maybe not always. But over the years she's developed a soft spot. Bobby, Dean and Sam, like three friends she's not sure she ever wanted. There's only Sam left, now. Even then, there isn't much of Sam left.

She's happy to find him in the rec room. It means he's having a good day, as much of a good day as Sam can have. He's sitting at a table by the window reading one of the battered old books they keep on the games shelf.

He smiles when he sees her and she bends down to give him a hug, which he reciprocates happily. He's had a shave since the last time she saw him a couple of days ago, and the bandages on his arms are gone, revealing a few healing scratches.

"What are you reading?" Jody asks conversationally. She slides the plastic box of white chocolate and macadamia nut cookies over. A couple of weeks ago, Sam had told her they were his favourite as a kid and she'd been determined to make him some. She's never been much of a baker, but she's new to a lot of things recently.

Sam glances at the book's cover. "Um. _Heaven on Earth: 101 happy poems_ ," he reads. "I dunno. It's the only thing here I haven't read."

"I'll ask the staff if I can bring you some new reading material," Jody offers. She leans over to open the box and hands Sam a cookie. "Eat," she says.

Sam asks her about her day, as he always does, and nibbles the biscuit.

"Same old," Jody tells him. "A bunch of paper work at the precinct, keeping the newbies in check, working a house robbery."

"Nothing I can help with?"

"Not unless you know where Mrs Gumeski's antique lamp went."

Sam huffs a laugh. "I was talking about hauntings. That kind of thing."

Jody stiffens momentarily. She usually tries to avoid this subject around Sam. "Don't worry," she says. "Nothing weird is showing up in town. If it was, I'd call in an expert."

"I'm an expert," Sam says, frowning.

"I know that," Jody hedges. "But you don't need to worry about that. You just need to rest."

"I get kind of sick hanging around here," Sam says, absently plucking his hospital wrist band. "There's only so many heaters I can fix and sinks I can unblock."

Jody sighs. This had started two weeks ago. One day she had walked into Sam's room to find him standing on a chair trying to 'fix' the fan. Apparently, he's been trying to 'fix' things around the hospital ever since, usually with the janitor trailing after him to put things back the way they were.

"I'll bring you some books," Jody says, trying to change the subject. One of the reasons Jody hasn't brought any books before is because Sam isn't allowed to read fiction, not while he still struggles to separate reality from what's in his head.

Sam isn't listening to her, his head is turned and he's focused on one of the nurses across the room. He calls her over.

"Hey, Sam," she says.

Sam gets to his feet and kisses the nurse firmly on the lips. Jody is more shocked than the nurse is, who just seems to take it in stride. She gently pushes Sam away and gets him to sit back down. "What have we talked about, Sam?"

Sam doesn't seem to be paying attention. He turns to Jody with a bright grin on his face and he says, "Jody, this is Amelia. She's my girlfriend."

Jody blinks at him, then turns to the nurse. Her name tag does indeed read _Amelia_ , at least Sam got that right.

Amelia frowns sympathetically. "If only I could be that Lucky, Sam. But I'm engaged, remember?" she says, holding up her left hand to show Sam her diamond ring.

The smile on Sam's face slowly melts away and his cheeks redden with embarrassment. "Right. I'm sorry," he says quietly. "I remember now. Your fiance's name is Don."

"That's right, Sam," Amelia says gently. "It's very good that you remembered." She looks between the two of them. "I have things I need to be doing. Do you need anything before I go?"

Sam shakes his head stiffly. Jody smiles politely as Amelia leaves. She glances across the table to where Sam is hanging his head miserably. She reaches over and places her hand over his, rubbing his knuckles gently.

"You're doing so much better than you were," she says.

Sam doesn't say anything.

"The doctor was saying you're doing really well."

"Why does he keep giving me more pills then?" Sam asks, jaw tight.

"He's helping you get better, sweetie. He knows what he's doing."

Sam finally looks up, then carefully glances around the room before leaning in close. "He's a demon," he whispers.

"Who is?" Jody dares to ask.

"The doctor," Sam says, like it's obvious.

Jody sighs. "He's not a demon, Sam. I checked myself. I checked all the staff."

"His eyes turned black."

"I don't think - "

"Dean believes me."

Jody closes her eyes for a moment, she takes his hand in hers again. "Sam, sweetie, Dean's gone. Do you remember that we talked about this? Dean died a couple of months ago."

"He didn't. He wouldn't leave me alone. I - I _talked_ to him. Not long ago. I was talking to him."

"When did you talk to him?" Jody asks patiently.

"It was - I talked..." he pauses, brow furrowing in concentration. "He was here..." he says distractedly, glancing around like Dean might suddenly appear and prove his point.

"I'm here, Sam," Jody says gently. "Dean's gone, and I know it's hard. I know what loss like that feels like. There were times I thought I saw Owen, or heard his voice. But it was just my brain wishing he was still there. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Sam looks at her for a moment, intently enough that Jody wonders if he's really seeing her. He pulls his hand from her grip and gets to his feet. It seems like her visit has been cut short. At times like this, when Sam remembers the truth, he seems to cloud over with grief, sinking into himself, waiting until he's next pulled back into his fantasy.

Walking away he mumbles, "It was easier with the devil in my head."

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Thanks so much! Reviews are white chocolate macadamia nut cookies for Sam!


	3. Demon Infestation

Thanks so much for all the reviews, I'm really pleased so many of you are liking this. And sorry that I haven't replied to all the reviews, I usually try to but things have been busy and I lost track.

I've decided on two more chapters since I've enjoyed writing this so much. This one is sadder than the last two, in my opinion. Warnings for self harm and suicidal thoughts.

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She knows the moment she steps through the front doors that it's a bad day. It's the nurse behind the reception desk and the pinched look on her face as soon as she sees Jody that gives it away. This has happened before, Sam has plenty of ups and downs, but something on the nurse's face says this might be worse than the usual bad day. Jody places a plastic-wrapped banana loaf on the desk and asks where Sam is. When she's directed to his room, she goes, the banana loaf is left with the nurse.

It's been five months since she first got that call. Five months of almost daily visits. Almost a hundred different things she's baked for Sam. She's learned a lot about him in this time. For one thing, he isn't the biggest fan of sugary food, but he seems to really like it when Jody brings things for him. She usually takes most of the cake home with her to share at the precinct the next day, but those moments where she and Sam share a cup of tea and a slice of something sweet is something she's begun to cherish. She's learned in snippets about the tragic life he's led, a life bizarre enough that she isn't entirely sure what is real and what Sam might have made up. She has a horrifying feeling that Sam never made up the devil.

She has learned the little things too. She knows what his favourite book is, what his favourite food it, favourite movie or song. She knows that he likes to sleep with only one pillow, that he speaks fluent Latin. He doesn't particularly like Christmas or chocolate, the freak, and he once got so drunk in college that he made out with his roommate, who was a guy, and it was actually a pretty good kiss.

Sam knows things about her too, things that she hasn't told anyone else. When he's lucid, he's a wonderful listener.

Jody thinks she's falling in love with him. Not in the romantic sense. Certainly in a motherly sense. She knew him before all this, liked him well enough. Now, he feels like family. She isn't sure if it's sad or wonderful that she looks so forward to visiting the psychiatric hospital each week. Jody has no one left, she's been alone for years. With Sam, the loneliness can't touch her.

There's a hole in her left by Owen and her husband, one which won't ever be filled. Sam Winchester has managed to repair the edges of it, stitch is small enough that it doesn't swallow her whole. She thinks maybe she needs him as much as he needs her.

She's been talking with the doctors about bringing Sam home with her for Christmas, whether Sam likes to celebrate or not. _If he improves_ , the doctor had said. And Sam had been, until now.

She finds him in his room, an orderly keeping watch outside. He sees Jody and says, "he keeps trying to leave," by way of explanation. She nods and waits for him to let her into the room.

Sam is sitting at the desk, leaning forward enough that his nose almost brushes the paper he's scribbling on with a felt tip pen. Jody approaches slowly and crouches down at his side, brushing her hand across his back. He flinches briefly at her touch, eyes flicking in her direction, but he immediately gets back to writing.

"Hey, Sam," Jody says. "What are you doing?"

"Planning."

"For?"

"It's - it's complicated. I'm figuring it out," Sam mumbles, words rushed and fidgety. "Dean - Dean needs me. I'm supposed to... I'm working on it."

Jody sighs. It's rare if Dean isn't brought up when she visits, but usually it's more talk than action. The few times Sam has actually tried to 'find' Dean have been almost disastrous. Window repairs can be expensive.

She looks him over and finds heavy shadows under his eyes, fresh scratches on his forearms, nails bitten down to stubs.

"Have you been sleeping, sweetie?"

"Can't. Dean needs me."

"Sam, do you remember why you're here? Remember what happened to Dean?"

Sam finally looks at her, the hand holding the pen stops moving. "Dean. And, and Cas. They're gone."

Jody pushes a strand of hair behind his ear. "I know, sweetie."

Sam presses his eyes closed, one fist coming up to his forehead as he concentrates. "And... and I have to find them. I should have found them by now. Dean's gonna be so mad..."

Jody hushes him gently. "Dean's in a better place now, remember? Sam, Dean died. It's a horrible, horrible thing and I know you don't want to remember it, but you need to. Dean wouldn't want you hurting yourself like this."

Sam turns back to the paper and continues scribbling at it, jaw set as he ignores Jody.

"Sam," she sighs.

"I'm busy."

She peers over his shoulder to catch a glimpse at the paper. It's filled from corner to corner with different symbols, none of which make any sense to her.

"What are these?" she asks conversationally.

"A way to get Dean back. I just have to find him. If I paint one of these, I'll find him. I just don't remember which is the right one."

Jody recognises one as a devil's trap, almost identical to the one that had been painted in Bobby's Singer's study. She gently wraps her fingers around his hand and stills it, pulling the tip of the pen away from the paper.

"You need some sleep, Sam," she tells him. "Being so tired will just make you sicker."

"I'm fine."

"You aren't well, Sam. Are you taking your pills?"

"They're trying to poison me. They make me fuzzy," he says. Then he pauses and looks at her, eyes wide. "They got to you, too. The demons. They lock me up in here and they trick you or, or... you're one of them. Are you one of them?"

"Sam, there aren't any - "

He grabs her arm before she gets a chance to say any more, and he pulls up her shirt sleeve, scribbling a devil's trap on her forearm. The door behind them opens and the orderly comes in, but Jody quickly shoos him away. When Sam is done drawing, he leans close and inspects her eyes.

"Not a demon," Jody points out. "Promise."

He seems to relax a little. Jody quickly confiscates the pen before he starts scribbling on the walls, and she really doesn't want to be paying more damages. She gets back to her feet and takes Sam's elbow, managing to get him from the desk to the bed. A stack of non-fiction paperback books sit on the bedside table along with an almost-full notebook. The doctor had told Sam to write down his thoughts and feelings and he had gone to town with it. Jody, ashamedly, peeked at it once and found nothing but incoherent rambling and symbols in the margins.

Sam starts scratching at his arm again and Jody pries his hand away.

"You need sleep," she says, no room for argument.

Sam sits, gazing blankly at the middle distance for a moment, then he suddenly bursts into shoulder-wracking sobs. She catches him in her arms, rubs at his back as he presses his wet face into her neck.

"Why did he go away?" Sam weeps.

"He didn't choose to, Sam. He'd be here with you if he could."

"Everyone goes away..."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"I don't want to be here anymore, Jody," Sam says. He's said things like this before, and he doesn't mean the hospital.

"Don't say things like that."

"It hurts too much. I wish I wasn't here."

Jody pulls away and takes his face in her hands, brushing her thumb over his wet cheek. "Please don't say things like that, I couldn't bear it. Don't you know how much you mean to me?"

Sam sniffs and rubs the back of his hand across his eyes. "I'm sorry."

"You don't need to apologise."

"Nothing makes any sense."

"I know."

"Dean's gone?"

"Yes. I'm sorry, Sam."

"I knew he was gone... you've told me hundreds of times. I keep getting confused. I'm sorry."

"What did I say about apologies?"

"Sorry."

Both of them smile a little at that. She leans over and pulls back his bed covers, he lies back and lets her tuck him in.

"I feel like a child. I feel useless. It's embarrassing."

"If I told you what I did last Friday night, you'll probably feel better about yourself."

"What did you do?"

"You think I'm telling you?" Jody snorts. "You'll hold it over for me for the rest of eternity."

She pulls the chair away from the desk and parks herself at Sam's bedside. "Are you tired?" she asks.

"A little," Sam says, when he means to say _a lot._ His eyes are already half-closed. "If I go to sleep, they'll get me. They're everywhere here."

"There are no demons," Jody promises. "I made sure to check, I did everything Bobby ever taught me. Holy water, Christo, everything. You're safe here."

"Wake me up when Dean gets here..."

Sam's eyes have already closed before Jody can say anything, exhaustion winning over paranoia and fear. She sits with him a while longer, just because she wants to watch him look peaceful for a moment. He'd been doing well lately, no scratching or outbursts, he hasn't tried to kiss Amelia in weeks. There had even been talk about him coming home for Christmas. Jody had pulled her dusty tree decorations from the attic, she had window-shopped for gifts for Sam. December 25th is just over a month away. Jody hasn't spent Christmas with anyone in years, she'd been anticipating this too much.

She leans forward to brush a strand of hair from Sam's face. She thinks that maybe she wouldn't mind spending Christmas day on a psychiatric ward, if that's how it had to be, as long as she had Sam.

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Thanks for reading! Reviews are appreciated :)


	4. Holly Jolly

Merry Christmas... kind of? We can celebrate Christmas in February, right?

* * *

The house hasn't looked like this in years. Maybe she went a little overboard with the miniature sleigh on the front lawn, but the Christmas lights along the gutters are a necessity. Owen used to love Christmas, like any little kid does, and he always insisted on _more_. More candy, more lights, more snow. Damn if Jody could ever refuse him when Christmas rolled around.

It never stops aching, not even for a moment, she's just become good at ignoring it. There are still mornings when she expects to find her husband sleeping beside her, there are still evenings when she almost goes into Owen's room to read him a story before bed.

Sam is just like her. He's the only one left. He lost his mother and his almost-fiance in the same horrific way, then his father, then Bobby, and now his brother and best friend. Jody knows she won't ever make up for any of these losses, just like Sam doesn't make up for her losses, but the two of them have found comfort in each other. Jody thought she'd never have a family again, and she'd been wrong about that.

She pulls into the driveway slowly, trying to get a look at Sam's reaction.

"Wow," he says simply.

"Too much?" Jody asks.

Sam pauses for a moment, then turns to her with a soft smile. "I never really had a Christmas growing up, I reckon this makes up for all of them."

"You never had Christmas?" Jody asks, incredulous. No wonder Sam hates this time of year.

"I only remember Santa coming twice, and one time he brought me a bowie knife."

"Yikes."

"Yeah. But this looks great, Jody. Really."

She pats him on the arm before getting out of the car. She retrieves his duffel from the trunk and refuses to let him carry it. He rolls his eyes at her like she's an idiot.

"You're my guest, Sam."

"I have fully functioning arms, Jody."

The bag isn't that heavy, considering Sam has barely any possessions. She ignores his comment and hooks the bag's strap over her shoulder so she can unlock the front door. Physically, Sam is a lot better. He's gained a little much-needed weight, although she still plans on feeding him up a bit more. His arms are mostly clear of self-inflicted wounds. He's even doing better mentally, despite the scare last month he's improved enough to be allowed a two week stay at Jody's for Christmas. Despite the occasional bouts of confusion or paranoia or depression, he seems much more self aware.

Jody hopes he might be ready for long-term release after New Years.

She swings the door open and ushers him inside.

"Oh wow," is the first thing he says. The inside of her home looks like Santa Clause threw up everywhere; lights lining the windows and doors, wreaths on the walls, a mountain of a tree in the corner. Jody isn't that jolly of a person, used to groan whenever Sean whipped out the mistletoe, hated Christmas shopping with a passion. Why spend so much time and money on one day that goes by far too quickly? Well, because of the grin on Owen's face when he saw presents under the tree. Because Sean would polish every leftover in the fridge before Boxing Day was over. Because they'd all sit together and watch The Grinch.

And now, because of the wonder in Sam's eyes.

"You did all this? Why?" he asks.

Jody shrugs. "Well, I haven't done the Christmas thing in a while, but since you were coming to stay I thought we could do the whole shebang."

She's trying not to blush, turning away to put the duffel on an armchair just so Sam won't see. She's suddenly wrapped in two long arms, Sam's head resting on top of hers.

"This is what I always dreamed of as a kid. Thank you."

They don't talk much after that - Jody wonders if Sam's throat is clogged just like hers is - and she shows him to the spare room and leaves him to get settled. She finds herself on the verge of tears and quickly makes her way to the bathroom to splash cold water on her face.

"Stop it," she tells herself in the mirror.

There's fear curdling in her gut. She loves Sam, truly and deeply. She's not sure what kind of love it is, she doesn't see him in the way she saw her son, certainly not the way she saw her husband. It's more than friendship, like a family member she can't place. Not a brother or a cousin or a nephew. Just Sam. The only family she has.

She's afraid of losing him, to his grief or his mind. She needs him, more than she should.

The days before Christmas are quiet. They laugh at cheesy Hallmark movies and take little trips into town. It's clear how much Sam is enjoying his freedom, he seems more alive out here than he did in the hospital. She dreads the day he has to go back.

There are moments; terrible nightmares, trailing off mid sentence, asking where Dean is, random comments that don't make sense. Little moments that remind her that Sam is still unwell. She meticulously organises his medication, sets timers exactly to the second, drives him to his afternoon appointments with the therapist. She'll see Sam get better, if it's the last thing she does.

He goes to bed early on Christmas eve, as he usually does because his pills make him tired. She checks on him five minutes later and he's out like a light, and apparently he didn't manage to pull up the covers before he passed out. She tiptoes inside and pulls the blankets up to his chest. Then, as an afterthought, she leans over to peck him on the forehead.

She's up before Sam on Christmas morning. By the time he staggers into the kitchen with half his hair sticking up and one eye still closed, breakfast is already on the table.

"Merry Christmas," Jody says.

Sam mumbles the same thing in reply and drops into the nearest seat with a yawn. Jody immediately places a glass of water and a couple of pills down next to his plate.

"Remember to eat a little something before taking those," she says. Sam grabs a waffle from the plate in the middle of the table and he takes one large bite before swallowing his pills. He's doing a lot better with his medication too, apparently no longer convinced that they're poison. Actually taking them is probably the reason why.

They have a quiet breakfast, Jody reads the paper as she waits for Sam to wake up a bit more. By 9am he's finished a plateful of food and he helps her clean up, drying the dishes she washes. She takes him by the wrist when they're done.

"Where are we going?" Sam asks when she leads him out the front door.

She holds up a finger, then unlocks the garage and swings it open. "Ta-da!"

Sam's jaw drops, then he takes a few tentative steps towards the Impala. "Is this - "

"Yours and Dean's? Yeah, it's the same one."

"How?"

"Well, when you were picked up back in the summer you didn't have the car with you. I took advantage my my sheriff status and tracked it down. It had been stuck halfway through the Sucrocorp sign before being impounded for a few months all the way across country. I bought her back and had a friend fix her up."

Sam turns to her. "I can't believe you did this."

Jody shrugs. "She's yours. I figured she should be where she belongs."

Sam pulls on the driver's side door, it creaks open as he climbs inside. He runs his hand across the dash.

"It still smells like Dean," he says, barely audible. "And the Legos are still in the vent. Everything's still here."

He laughs suddenly, a bright grin spread across his face. In the next moment, Jody is almost winded, wrapped up in Sam's arms.

"I didn't get you anything," he says.

She melts into him and smiles. "You don't need to."

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Still more to come in the next part where we may see a familiar face ;)

And thanks so much to everyone who has followed this story so far, especially thanks for getting more than 50 reviews after only 3 chapters. You guys are great!


	5. The Message

Thank you all so much for leaving reviews! I'm really happy you're enjoying this.

* * *

It starts with a message on the answering machine.

Actually, that comes second. It actually starts with Sam having a relapse. He'd been living with Jody for two months, released from hospital in April, before things went tits up and she had to take him back again. It's been three weeks since then, with little improvement. Jody isn't sure what triggered it, just that one morning Sam was sitting on the front lawn in nothing but boxers mumbling about monsters and black goo and empty labs, and other horrifying things she doesn't want to think about, and there was nothing she could do to snap him out of it.

The message is there when she comes home from visiting Sam. He hasn't been up for any real conversation, too busy trying to prove to her that his doctor is a demon and that there's blood in his pills. It's like there's been no improvement, like those days he'd lived with her had never happened. And nothing had happened, as far as Jody knew. He was taking his medication and attending therapy and she'd done her best to keep anything negative out of his line of sight. When she asked the doctor about it he said, "Setbacks happen, it's all a part of the recovery process. Sometimes, things suddenly get worse with no real explanation. The mind is a complicated thing."

Then, she went to where Sam had been confined to his room for throwing a board game across the rec room. He said, "Did you see his eyes? Did you see his eyes, Jody? They were black. Black hole. They're trying to poison me, Jody! Don't let them. Let them in and I'll be a goner. I need salt. Lots of it."

He was still rambling on about the same things when visiting hours were over. At that point, she couldn't stop herself from pulling him into a hug, but Sam didn't seem to notice, he was too busy talking.

"Dean will come. He'll be here. He'll kill the demons and - and... I'll go to the library to read up on the history of this place."

Jody pushed a strand of unwashed hair behind his ear. "Sam, you have to stay here, remember? You're safe here. No one here is trying to hurt you," she said.

Sam's eyes were far away. "Stay here... like a cage. Like _the_ cage. Do you have any idea what he _did_ to me?"

She'd had to leave right after that, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't happy to go. She loves Sam, she loves going to see him, spending time with him, but sometimes it's a relief to get away from him when he's like this.

She gets home to find three messages on her answering machine. She clicks _play_ and begins rifling through the fridge for something to eat for dinner.

 _"Hey, Jody. This is Mel from work. I just wanted to know if you're coming to the staff night. I'm about to book a restaurant and I need to know how many seats we need. Thanks!"_

Jody pauses. She'd completely forgotten about the staff night. The machine clicks as it moves onto the next message.

 _"Hello, Sheriff. Tom from the garage here. Just wanted to let you know that the part you were asking after has come into stock. Feel free to pop down during business hours to pick it up. See you soon."_

She finds the bowl of salad left over from last night at the back of the fridge and pulls it out.

 _"Jody, it's Dean - "_

The bowl smashes to pieces on the kitchen floor, tiny shards scattering all across the room. She hurries back into the living room and stares at the answering machine.

 _" - It's been a long time, huh? Well, I've kind of been... away for a while. I just got back and I'm looking for Sammy, checking in on anyone who might know where he is. If you know where he is... tell him I'm okay. And call me on the number I'm phoning you from."_ There's a nervous chuckle. _"Okay, I've been back a couple of weeks now, don't ask where I've been because it's a long ass story, anyway I'll admit I'm kind of going out of my mind with worry here. I tried all of Sam's cells and there's no answer, half of them have been disconnected, and there's no sign of him at our usual meeting points. Even if you don't know where he is, could you keep a look out?"_

He heaves a deep sigh.

 _"So, yeah. I'm in Whitefish, Montana. Call me if you hear anything."_

The machine goes silent.

For a long while she just stands there. This isn't the first time she's seen someone come back from the dead. She knows resurrection is dangerous. There might even be a chance that this isn't Dean, it could be a shapeshifter, or something else monstrous, trying to find Sam. No way. Not if she can help it.

But what if it is Dean?

She replays the message five times. It certainly _sounds_ like Dean, but that doesn't really mean anything, does it? There are all kinds of things that can imitate people's voices.

It takes a little over two hours before she makes the decision to call him back.

* * *

Dean Winchester, or something that looks a lot like him, leans against the hood of a stolen 1980 Camero. He looks up when he sees her approaching and breaks out into a grin, arms open. Before he can get even within a meter of her he is sopping wet, spitting out a mouthful of holy water.

"Not a demon," he says.

She raises one eyebrow and pulls a silver knife from a strap on the back of her belt. He takes it from her and makes the cut himself, right below his elbow. It bleeds cleanly, the flesh around it doesn't sizzle.

"Not a shapeshifter either," he says, rolling his eyes like he's been through this a million times before. "Anything else you want to throw at me?"

She hands over a bottle of Borax.

"Leviathans are all gone," he says.

"Can't be too safe," Jody counters. He pours a good measure of it over his hand with no effect. It's like a huge weight has come off her shoulders, and she pulls him down into a hug despite how wet he is, gripping the back of his jacket like a life line.

"I thought you were dead!"

"Not quite."

She pulls away and looks him in the eye. He looks different. He seems harder, if it's even possible. Since she's known the Winchesters, they've always been these giant men, seemingly made of stone. You'd have to be if you did what they do for a living.

"What happened to you?" she finally asks, one hand on his shoulder just to make sure she isn't imagining all of this.

"I killed Dick Roman."

" _Dick Roman?"_

"Well, the real Dick was long gone before we got there. It was the Leviathan boss dressed up as him. Anyway, I killed him and kinda got sucked into Purgatory."

"Purgatory... like from the bible?"

"Not quite. It's the afterlife for monsters. It's non-stop in there, I can tell you that," he says, laughing almost nervously.

She smiles at him. "I'm glad you're okay," she says, then takes a deep breath. Dean is staring at her expectantly. She finally tells him, "Sam is here. He's alive."

Dean glances around. "He's in Sioux Falls? Where is he?"

Here it is. Jody's been running through this conversation in her head over and over. It's been two days since she first heard Dean's voicemail, and Sam has shown no improvement. She hasn't told Sam about any of it. If it was just a monster pretending to be Dean, why should she worry Sam about it? Now, she'll have to tell him Dean's alive, right after she's told Dean what happened to Sam.

"Sam is in a psychiatric hospital, has been for most of this last year," she says, getting straight to the point.

Dean is quiet for a moment. His mouth opens and closes a few times before he settles on saying, "What?"

"I got a call about a year ago that he'd been admitted to a hospital for strange behaviour. He was trying to perform some kind of ritual in public. At first, I thought maybe he just got himself into trouble, but he's really sick, Dean. I had him moved to a closer facility so I could keep an eye on him. He'd been doing well for a while, even came to live with me for a few weeks, but things aren't so good right now."

Dean frowns. "Wait. Sammy was cured. Cas fixed up his brain. This has to be a mistake, like a - a spell or something."

"Dean, it's mental illness. There's no magic cure for this."

"But he was _okay._ Cas fixed him."

"Cas is your angel friend?" Jody guesses.

"Yeah. He's - he's gone now."

Jody nods respectfully. "Come on," she says gently. "Let's go see Sam."

* * *

This is the last chapter from Jody's POV for a while. Next chapter will be from Dean. I have no clue how long this story will be... I'll just have to let my imagination take me where it will.

Let me know what you think!


	6. Dean: resurrected

Just saying in advance... sorry hehe

* * *

This is how Jody explains it: she gets a call one day telling her that Sam has been committed. She pretends to be his aunt. Sam spends most of the next year on a psychiatric ward. Sam gets better, Sam gets worse. That's about the gist of it.

It doesn't make sense to Dean. According to Jody, Sam is barely hanging onto reality. He's completely delusional, paranoid, nuts. Well, Jody didn't use that last word. But Sam is a strong kid. Dean _knows_ Sam, and Sam is tougher than anyone Dean's ever known, maybe even Dean himself. Definitely tougher than Dean. Sam endured the Cage and came back mostly in one piece. Even when Sam was five-days sleep deprived with the Devil singing in his ear, he was still _there_. He was lucid... almost to the end.

Dean pictures Sam lying, dressed all in white, in that Indiana hospital, staring at nothing and not seeing much else.

Is that what Sam is like now?

Cas was supposed to fix this. He _had_ fixed this. Last time Dean saw Sam, the kid was firing on all cylinders, not that the same could be said for Cas.

Cas is... gone. That's all there is to it. Besides, Sam needs Dean right now.

They get to the hospital and Jody spends a long time explaining that her nephew, Dean, was MIA and presumed dead oversees. Miraculously, Dean has returned home, although they won't specify where exactly he's been. That would probably result in the both of them neighbouring with Sam. The doctor thanks Dean for his services to the country, which is kind of awkward but he's not dumb enough to turn down any kind of appreciation. Then, the doctor, who seems to be authority in this situation, decides it's best to let Sam know his brother isn't actually dead, and they can deal with the fallout of that later.

It's decided that Jody should tell Sam, and she goes in with a doctor to supervise. Dean stays outside, it might send the kid skittering over the edge if his dead brother suddenly walked into his room. While Jody is explaining things, Dean waits with his ear pressed to the door.

"Sam, hey," Jody says.

"Jody. Jody, do you see? Do you see it? Don't let it get me."

The first thing Dean thinks is that it's amazing to hear Sam's voice, to know that he's _right there_ , just a few steps away. Then, he think _holy shit_ because Sam sounds like a crazy person.

"It's okay, Sam," Jody says, in a softer voice than Dean thought she was even capable of. "Shhh. Remember that you're safe here? Remember that?"

"I - I think so..."

"Good." Dean can hear the smile in her voice. "Sam, I have something to tell you."

There's a long, heavy pause. In the end, Jody just comes out with it.

"Dean is alive. He's here. To see you."

That's followed by another long, heavy pause, more on Sam's part than Jody's this time.

"Sam, did you hear what your aunt said?" that's the doctor's voice.

"Don't talk to me," Sam mumbles.

" _Sam,"_ Jody scolds.

Another long pause, then Jody's voice, "Sam?"

"I - I don't understand."

"Dean is alive, Sam. He's okay. He's here if you want to see him."

That last part is just stupid, Dean thinks. Of course Sam wants to see him.

"He's already here. He was here when - No, you said he was gone. He's _gone_. You said."

"I know, and I was wrong about that. I'm sorry."

There's more silence.

"Do you want to see Dean?"

No answer.

"Sam," the doctor says, "could you try to pay attention for a moment?"

And that's a bit of kick to the jewels. Dean is almost tempted to barge in there himself, he almost does, but there's a quiet conversation he can't make out followed by the doctor opening the door and ushering him inside. Sam is sitting on the edge of the only bed in the room, dressed in grey sweatpants and a red wool sweater, something Jody probably bought for him. He looks up at Dean and frowns like he's a puzzle to be solved, an eerily Cas-like expression.

Dean grins in the most encouraging way he can muster. "Heya, Sammy."

Sam slowly gets to his feet and approaches Dean. Jody is smiling from behind, the doctor lingers in the doorway. When Sam is almost toe-to-toe with him, Dean automatically opens his arms, ready to pull Sam into his chest. Because it's been a year of nothing but blood and guts and non-stop death, the stink of it is still clinging to his skin, and as much as Purgatory might have felt right and pure sometimes, Sam was always on his mind. Like a phantom limb.

Sam's arms are coming up too, but they aren't returning the embrace, his hands are wrapping around Dean's neck. He's being roughly pushed against a wall, Sam's thumbs pressing on his airways. The skin on Dean's face feels like it's tightening, mouth gaping open and closed like a fish. All while this is happening Sam is screaming in his face, "You're not him! Take off his face! Now or I'll rip it off myself!"

Jody is trying to tug Sam's hands away from Dean's neck, but Sam is a big dude and she barely makes him budge. Things are going grey and fuzzy around the edges when the pressure on his neck is finally released. Dean crumbles down to his knees, choking and gasping, eyes watering like crazy, as he tries to pull some air into his lungs. Jody is there, rubbing his back, worry coming off her in waves.

Dean looks up and sees that Sam is being pinned down to his mattress by four men while the doctor taps a syringe.

"No!" Sam screams. "Don't send me back! Please!"

Sam's pants are tugged down until there's a good portion of his ass exposed, the doctor doesn't hesitate before jamming the syringe needle into his skin. His struggles become sluggish and uncoordinated until, finally, he isn't moving anymore at all. Jody helps Dean get to his feet. He shrugs her off and, when the doctor asks the nurse to fetch some restraints, he leaves the room as fast as he can.

Jody catches him at the other end of the hall.

"You'll need to see a doctor about that," she says, gesturing to his neck. "I think it's starting to bruise."

Dean just shakes his head, not sure what to say.

"I'm sorry that this is how things went. When he gets better, he'll feel like crap about all of this. He's not usually that... aggressive."

"What the hell happened to my brother, Jody?" Dean demands, voice raspy.

She sighs, eyes sympathetic. "He's mentally ill, Dean. He was admitted to a psychiatric ward in Indiana over a year ago, before Sucrocorp. He was signed out AMA, but I'm guessing you know all about that."

"Don't get mad at me," Dean says.

Jody holds up her hands. "I'm not. I swear. I just think there's a lot I don't know about here."

Dean rubs a hand down his face, half-hoping that when he opens his eyes again he'll be back in Purgatory. "Sam... he went through some bad shit. Something no one should have to - he was pretty messed up after."

"Does this thing he went through have anything to do with Satan?" Jody asks.

Dean stares at her.

"He's mentioned some things here and there," she explains. Then she takes a deep, weary breath. "The devil? Jesus Christ..."

"We got him back, but he was messed up after. Hearing and seeing things that weren't there, you know? Then he just stopped sleeping, got sent to the nut house."

Jody purses her lips. Clearly she doesn't appreciate that way of saying it.

Dean carries on. "Cas fixed him. The hallucinations, all of that was gone. I just don't understand how he got like this."

"Maybe he wasn't fixed," Jody says. "Maybe only for a little while, but when you and your friend vanished, he was lost. He couldn't accept that he had no one left so he just... detached himself from reality."

Dean nods his head down the hall, towards Sam's room. "And that? What was that?"

She sighs. "He thinks most of the staff here are demons trying to make him drink their blood. He was just confused, Dean, it was a big thing for him to take in."

"But... I'm his brother."

Jody places a gentle hand on his shoulder. She says, "I know. And he'll know too, when he's better."

* * *

A/N: Funny thing is, I originally planned on this being a happy, although slightly angsty, reunion. Then I started writing and things took a different turn.

Thanks so much for all the reviews on this story, I still can't really believe just how many reviews there are!


	7. Finding Sammy

In the mirror, he sees a different person. He remembers the filth of purgatory, wading through blood and guts, hacking his way from one end to the other, nothing but adrenaline and a fight for survival. Kill or be killed. Dean fit in there a little too well. He's clean now, hair still dripping from Jody's shower. Sometimes he misses the thrill of it. How pure it was, nothing but life and death. And the whole time, Sam was on his mind.

The purplish skin on his throat is blossoming. He was spat out of Purgatory with fresh new skin, no scars, no broken nose. Each time he's brought back from the dead it's like he's given a full reset. The bruises on his throat make him feel a little more real.

He scrubs the last beads of water from his hair and slips his t-shirt back on. He needs to talk to someone. He needs to talk to Sam, but that isn't happening any time soon, and he's trying to avoid Jody and her sad smiles and constant questions, so that leaves Dean with no one. But... there is someone.

He fishes his cell out of his jeans pocket. This one is brand knew, his old phone was crushed under a werewolf's foot, and it only has a couple of numbers on it. He scrolls down and finds who he's looking for.

They pick up immediately. _"Dean?"_

"Hey, Benny."

 _"It's good to hear from you, chief."_

"Yeah. It's good to hear from you too, Benny."

 _"How are you? Did you find your brother?"_

Dean glances in the mirror, looks again at his bruised neck. He scrubs a hand through his hair and turns away. "Yeah, I found him. Anyway, how's the twenty-first century treating you?"

Benny pauses for a split second then says, _"It's different... I'm still getting used to the portable phone thing. Just been visiting my old stomping grounds. Things are good, chief. Don't you worry."_

Dean smiles. "Who said I was worrying?"

 _"Just callin' me to say 'hey'?"_

"Yeah. That's it," Dean says with a sigh. "I should be going, Benny. You be good, okay?"

"Always am, brother. I'll be seeing ya."

Benny hangs up and Dean is left alone again. He figures now he should go and see Jody, but Jody does nothing but remind him of what's wrong with Sam, and maybe Dean wants to pretend to be ignorant a little while longer. In the bathroom, he can pretend Sam is fine. He'll slice off a vamp's head like it's a part of his morning routine, but he runs away like a child when he has to face his own problems.

Well, he has to man up some time.

Jody is sitting at the kitchen table, stirring a mug of tea. "Sleep well?" she asks.

"Like a freakin' baby," Dean answers, dropping tiredly into the seat next to her.

She stares at the bruises on his neck. "Does it hurt? I have painkillers if you want them."

"Nah," Dean says. He gently probes the tender skin. "It's fine."

She raises an eyebrow and Dean expects her to call him out on his bullshit, but she doesn't say anything. She takes a sip of her tea. "I've got work in an hour, but I'll be going by the hospital to check on Sam. They might not allow him visitors after he - after what happened last night, but I want ask how he's doing. Do you want me to pick you up after I finish work?"

"I'm good."

Again, he expects disapproval, but Jody just nods understandingly. She gets to her feet and moves over to the kitchen drawers, reaching into the third one down and pulling out a set of keys. She hands them over to Dean, and Dean stares at them in his palm and wonders what they're for. Then, he recognises them. He looks up and Jody is smiling.

"She's here?" he asks.

She snorts. "Your _car_ is in the garage."

Dean is on his feet in a second, and standing in the garage in the next. His baby is as beautiful as ever, she looks well maintained, her coat shining. He hops behind the wheel and runs his hand smoothly along it.

"Took me a while to track it down," Jody says from the doorway.

"Oh baby, I missed you," Dean coos, brushing his fingers across the leather seats. He pops his head out of the window. "You looked after her this whole time?"

"Sam was," Jody says. "Any time he stayed with me he'd clean it everyday to make sure it wouldn't gather any dust. Kept saying you'd kill him if the car got dirty."

"Not 'it', Jody. She's more than just a car."

Jody steps into the room and leans against the car door. "And you just ignored everything I said about Sam."

Dean fiddles with the radio. "No. I heard. I'm glad he took care of her."

Jody sighs. "Dean, you can't keep ignoring this, ignoring _him_. It won't make the problem go away. If you want to fix this, you have to face it."

"He doesn't believe I'm me, Jody. He doesn't want to see me."

"Oh, that's bullshit!" Jody snaps.

Dean quickly turns the radio off and slumps back in the seat as Jody climbs in next to him.

"I've been with him this past year, Dean," she says, calmer than she was a moment ago. "He struggled without you, Dean. Losing you is what broke him in the first place. And I... I've tried my best to take care of him, but I know I'm not enough. He always needed you. He still does. You just have to be patient, you need to be there for him. I know, I just _know_ that having you there will help him get better."

Dean takes a deep breath, his right hand grips the steering wheel instinctively. It feels so familiar. "I missed him," he sighs, "and I guess I still do."

"You don't need to. He's still the same Sam, even if it doesn't seem like it sometimes. I didn't know Sam all that well before, but I've see him when he's doing better, Dean. Setbacks like this have happened before and he always comes back from it."

She smiles and pats him on the knee. "I have to get going," she says. "I'll call you when I finish work. In the meantime, help yourself to anything from the fridge." She climbs out of the passenger seat and makes her way back to the house, but she pauses in the doorway. "Dean, Sam's room is the one opposite mine. Take a look and see that your brother is still there. Okay?"

He stays in the Impala until he hears Jody's truck pulling out of the driveway, then he heads back inside. He finds a beer in the fridge and makes a breakfast of it on the couch, trying to catch up on the last year by watching the news. Strangely, there's not much to report. After an hour or so of pacing around the house, he finds his way to the room opposite Jody's.

It looks a lot like the room Dean slept in last night with wooden flooring, cream walls and burgundy drapes. It's spacious and clean. On the desk there's a stack of books, Dean looks through them and recognises Sam's favourites, and at the bottom is _Slaughterhouse 5_. Sam was never a fan, but Dean always was. Tacked up on the wall by the bed are a few faded photographs. Dean with their mom, both of them with their dad, the two of them laughing together at Bobby's.

And there, hooked on the corner of the headboard, so small that Dean almost doesn't see it, is a gold-horned pendant on a thick black string.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for being so patient. I managed to churn the other chapters out within a day or two of each other but I struggled with this one. I actually wrote two very different chapters before this one, one was from Sam's POV and the other was Sam's medical file from the hospital (I was running out of ideas at that point hehe), and they just didn't work out for this part of the story. Once I started this version of chapter 7, I got it done in a couple of hours.

Hopefully I can get back on track with this and have the writing flow as quickly as it did before. Imagination is a fickle thing, eh?


	8. Lights Out

"You know, Sammy doesn't like candy and stuff like that," Dean can't help pointing it out. Jody pauses a step out of the front door, a plastic box of sugar cookies under her arm. She raises an eyebrow at him, as if to say _seriously?_

"He hasn't complained about it this past year," she replies, and continues on her way to the car. Dean can't help being a little slow as he follows her, like there a string at his back trying to tug him back into the house. The bruises on his neck have begun to fade, but Dean still dreams of Sam choking the life out of him. He's not scared of Sam, he's scared _for_ him. He's scared he'll never get back the brother he knew.

Baby is still sitting in Jody's garage. She hasn't been on a drive since Sam ended up hospital the first time, which is about a year ago. Baby's wheels must be itching to tear up the highway as much as Dean itches to take her there. He plonks down in the passenger seat of Jody's truck and she drops the box of cookies onto his lap before pulling out of the driveway.

"Really, though. Why the cookies?" he asks.

Jody shrugs. "Sam likes them."

"Seriously?" Dean can't help but be surprised. He remembers fourteen-year-old Sam turning down free pancakes at a diner once in favour of fruit salad. The kid's always been weird about food, to the point he's had Dean worrying about it.

"He has a couple, and we give the rest to everyone else on the ward. I dunno, it just turned into a thing. Once a week I bring him cake or something, and he eats it."

"No offence, Jody, but I never took you for a baker."

Jody's smile is sad. "I used to bake for Owen whenever I had the chance."

And that's where the conversation ends. They drive to the hospital quietly, eventually Jody turns on the radio and Dean continues stewing in his nerves.

* * *

Dean isn't the type of person to get nervous. He's faced down some of the most terrifying creatures imaginable without breaking a sweat. He's been doing it since he was a kid, even. There are times he admits he's been scared; when Sam vanished in a roadside diner, when he died in Dean's arms a couple of days later. Dean still dreams about Hellhounds, he still still feels Alastair's rusted knife brushing against his skin sometimes.

But Dean has never run away, not ever.

And right now, he feels like bolting.

The woman behind the desk plonks a plastic box in front of them and orders them to empty anything potentially dangerous into it. This includes: belts, earrings, necklaces...

"This stays with me," Dean says firmly.

The nurse purses her lips. "Either you put it in the box or you don't go through those doors."

Jody quietly watches as he slowly lifts the string over his head and settles the amulet gently in the box. "Be careful with that," he warns.

"Of course," she replies, closing the lid. She opens the doors for them, swiping her key card. They buzz loudly and take a little muscle to push open. It's been a few days since Dean last saw Sam - since Sam tried to strangle him - and they're warned by someone in a white coat that Sam might not be very responsive today. Sam's violent outburst, and constant readmission to hospital over the past months, mean that he's often changing medication. The person in the white coat says they think they've found the right combination for Sam, Jody looks like she's heard this many times before.

Everything smells clinical, the bleached, shining white floors and the watery grey walls. The soft couches and colourful drawings around the room don't mask the fact that this is a part of a hospital.

There are a good few people dotted around, the divide between patient and visitor is clear. The patients match the rest of the room in their white clothes. In the far corner, facing the window, hunched in a plastic chair, is Sam. Jody grabs an empty seat and drags it over to his side, Dean follows. Right away, Dean can tell that Sam isn't entirely in the room as his cloudy eyes wander aimlessly around the gardens below. A blink is all he can muster to show he realises he's no longer alone.

"Sam, honey," Jody says softly. She places a hand on his knee, and Sam might have flinched if he could, but it's clear to Dean that the kid's too doped up to do anything but drool. Jody is already attending to that, dabbing his chin with a tissue from her pocket. Dean just sits and stares, because his brother - the Sam he remembers - is bright and intelligent. But here is Sam, barely there.

"What the fuck is wrong with him?" Dean demands. "What did they do?"

Jody sighs. "It's the meds. He just needs to adjust or - or something. I don't know."

Dean presses his lips together. Yeah, at least Sam isn't trying to choke him, but right now Dean thinks he might prefer that. He'd prefer anything to this empty shell of a person. By the look on Jody's face, the way her brows pinch together, the deep sigh she makes, she's as troubled about this as Dean is.

"It's not nice to see, I know that," she says, as much to herself as to Dean. "It's happened before, and he comes back from it. Just - "

"Be patient, I know," Dean finishes.

Immediately, Jody pastes on a smile and perks herself up, picking the plastic box from Dean's hands.

"I did the sugar cookies this time," she says to Sam, whose eyes manage to drift in her direction but fail to focus, lingering on the wall behind her. "You said you liked these the last time, so I did 'em again. Um, a few are a little... crispy around the edges, but we'll give those ones to Dean, huh?"

Sam does not look in Dean's direction, instead his gaze drifts back to the window. Dean doesn't realise one of the nurses has come over until she speaks.

"He likes the colours outside," she says. "We sat him over here so he could see. I think it's quite soothing for him."

That makes Dean want to yell or scream or fucking kick something over. Sam isn't a toddler... he went to Stanford, for god's sake. He manages to clamp down on his temper and he turns to the nurse and says, "I'm going to take him outside."

The nurse blinks at him. "He's not in any condition to go for a walk..."

"Get him a wheelchair then," Dean says. "You've gotta have some around here, right? Since you're a hospital."

It doesn't take much to send the nurse away for one. Not long after, Dean is pushing Sam out into the garden, only just restraining himself from steering Sam towards the exit, driving him to Jody's, settling him into the Impala, and speeding away from everything here. The place is sort of depressing, Dean isn't entirely sure how someone is supposed to recover in a place that's so sterile and empty. But that's rich coming from the guy who's healed from deep, seeping wounds on musty motel sheets.

Being out in the sun seems to make Sam happier. He's actually turning his head to look at things and a few times Dean stops pushing and lets Sam inspect _another_ plant in painful detail. Jody wanders beside them, her hand never leaving Sam's shoulder. Something rears its ugly head in Dean, something that says _that should be me_.

He grips the wheelchair's handlebars a little tighter and keeps pushing. There are a few adjustment issues after a year of being in Purgatory. It's hard to go from killing, killing, and more killing, to eating roast chicken with Jody on Sundays. He itches for a hunt, he longs even more for his brother. His brother, who is the only person who might know what happened to Kevin Tran. And Dean could look for the kid himself, he probably should, but he can't leave Sam, even if sometimes he wants to, just for a little while.

And there's Benny, who Dean often thinks of. Is he safe? Is he happy? Is he still on the wagon?

And Cas. Cas, who Dean will never see again...

As much as Dean has lost, Sam is still here. Dean just needs to stick it out until he comes back to himself. Sam will come back, he has to.

He's lost in thought, when his phone begins to ring. Jody stares at him expectantly.

"Take it," she says. "It might be something important."

Dean nods and moves a few steps away. Benny's name flashes on the screen and Dean immediately answers.

"Benny?"

 _"Hey, Dean. You, um – you got a minute? Afraid I messed up, buddy."_

Dean sighs deeply. "What did you do?"

 _"No, man. Not like that. I had a run in with a few of my kind... I took 'em out, but I'm hurt pretty bad. There were four of them and they got a few good hits in."_

"I'm sorry, you took on _how many_? Are you crazy?"

 _"Hey. See, the thing is, my legs – they ain't working so good. There's, uh... a fuel barge not too far from here. I'm pretty sure I can make it at a slow crawl. I was kind of hoping maybe I could ask you for one more favour?"_

Dean turns to see Jody crouched down, talking one-sided to Sam. She's been doing this a long time, seems to know how to navigate this situation with her eyes closed. Dean sighs and tightens his fingers around his cell. It looks like Baby will be back on the road sooner than he thought.

* * *

A/N: Sorry that I haven't managed to reply to everyone's reviews. Here is a thank you to all of you, I really appreciate your comments. I'm really happy that so many of you are liking this, it really encourages me to sit down and write more.


	9. Stone Number One

Thank you all for being so patient with me!

* * *

There are spiders in the nurse's hair. Small and quick enough that it's like static on an old television set. He wonders if he should tell her, but she doesn't seem to notice them. Sam decides to keep quiet. Ignorance can be bliss.

He tries not to jerk away when she takes his arm, he really tries, but he can't help it. She smiles so gently it's almost like she's not smiling at all, and she says something in that soft voice you might use when trying to coax your dog out from under the table on the 4th July. She wraps the cuff around his upper arm and he tries not to squirm when it clenches him tight. He tries not to think of the Cage, or Lucifer squeezing and squeezing until there's nothing left in him, like a tube of toothpaste. It's irreversible.

Today is a bad day. Sam knows that. Sam is living it. He knows better than anyone, despite what everyone else seems to think. He woke up with guilt festering in his gut, although he can't think why.

He looks back up and sees that the spiders are gone from the nurse's hair. He sighs, relieved, until he begins to wonder where the spiders went instead. He's too tired to really think much about it, barely hears the nurse tell him to go brush his teeth before breakfast starts in twenty minutes. Something moves in the corner of his eye, trying to grab his attention, but Sam refuses to look, tries to focus on putting his slippers on instead.

 _"There's a lady who's sure All that glitters is gold And she's buying the stairway to heaven..."_

Good song, Dean had said once. Not fifty times in a row, Sam had replied. That all seems like such a long time ago, when Sam was trying so desperately to shove all the Hell back down, to stop it spilling out of his head and rotting everything in its wake. There's no fixing the broken dam this time. It had been for Dean's sake, mostly. He needed to be okay back then to watch out for Dean.

 _Screwed that one up, didn't you, Sammy? Remind me again, where is Dean?_

And Cas' sacrifice, his willingness to take on Sam's pain, that had all been for nothing. Look where Sam is now. Fifty-one-fiftied.

Breakfast is quiet. Sam's way too tired to make conversation, trying too hard not to push his tray away and go back to sleep right there in the cafeteria. He stirs the oatmeal until it's cold, drooping off his fork in a congealed mess. He empties a couple of sugar packets into it, but the taste is still off. Blood, he thinks, and a hint of sulphur. He glances around. No black eyes, but he isn't taking any chances. He pushes the bowl away and heads down to the rec room.

"Sam," someone calls his name, and it takes him a moment longer than it should to realise it's the nurse with the medicine cart. She holds out a little paper cup and says, "Have you eaten? You know you can't take these on an empty stomach."

Sam figures one spoonful of oatmeal is enough to make his stomach not empty. He takes the cup, about to tip the pills into his mouth, but he quickly stops himself.

"Some of these are different," he says, eyes narrowed with suspicion.

The nurse puts on that gentle smile everyone around here seems to have mastered. "The doctor spoke to you about this, remember? She decided to put you on some different meds and dosages. You've been taking these for a couple of weeks. Do you remember that, honey?"

Sam doesn't remember. He doesn't remember a lot of things these days. He isn't sure which of his memories are real and which are falsehoods created by Lucifer. He isn't sure how many days it's been since he arrived here, or how many days it's been since he last saw his brother. He isn't sure if Dean is dead or not. He isn't entirely sure if he's still in the cage or not. He mutters _Christo_ under his breath, just to be safe. The nurse's eyes remain a soft blue.

He washes down the pills.

The rec room is mostly empty since the majority of the other patients are still eating breakfast. Sam finds a seat far from anyone else in the corner and sits with his eyes on the room. One little mistake, that's all he'd need to know if Lucifer is behind this... or a flash of black eyes to know if demons are behind this... or Dean or Jody or... how can you tell what's real and what isn't when your mind has been shattered countless times?

Sam doesn't remember which is the truth. Is Dean gone? Is he out of the cage? Did Cas really come back? Things used to be so clear, now his brain is a mess, sloshing around inside his head, filled with his soupy thoughts.

He tries to keep watch, he really tries, but his eyes are dipping closed and in the next moment he's jerking awake at the touch of the doctor's hand on his arm.

"Will we be seeing you in 10.30 group, Sam?" she asks. Sam isn't sure why she says it like there's an option. Sam nods, because that's the answer she's expecting. She smiles, pleased, and says, "How are you feeling, Sam? I know it's been hard adjusting to the new dosages, but you're doing a lot better, yes?"

Again, she's talking like she already knows the answer, like she's completely fixed all of Sam's problems. She doesn't stick around for a reply, already striding off to speak with another patient. Somehow, Sam gets roped into a game of chess with an older guy named Howard, who mumbles his grocery list to himself. Lucifer whispers suggestions in Sam's ear. _Not sure I'd do that, if I were you. The answer is right there._

Sam makes his winning move with a smile on his face. Howard slumps and says, "I forgot the milk."

 _Atta boy, Sammy! See, it pays to listen to me sometimes._

He sits through group, tries to drown out everyone else's voices. He doesn't really want to listen to everyone's sob story, just like he's sure no one would want to hear his. The doctor asks for his input, but no, Sam would not like to share today. It's a bad day, you see. There it is again; guilt tingling through him.

When Jody arrives, Sam gets up and hugs her for a long time. He isn't sure when he last saw her, or what he might have done to get himself confined for a few days, or how bad it must have been to have his dosages changed. He must have done something pretty bad considering the pained look on Jody's face.

"I'm sorry," he says automatically. "I'm really sorry if I did something to upset you or - or hurt you."

She smiles and places her hand over his. "You didn't do anything to upset me, Sam. Don't worry." She pauses. "Do you remember what happened a couple of weeks ago?"

Sam tries to think but he can't put anything in the right order. His high school prom was after Dean sold his soul... or the cage came before he was born. He knows that can't be right.

"I'm trying," he tells Jody. "But there's _so much_. I can't get it in order, I don't know. I don't know what day it is."

"It's Thursday, honey," Jody says. "Do you remember Dean?"

"He..." Sam frowns, trying to think back. "He went to live with Lisa. No. He, um. He went after Dick Roman and... Dick Roman was strangling him. I think."

"He did kill Roman, you're right," she says, voice lowered. "And Dean went away for a while, not intentionally. But he's back now. Remember?"

Sam doesn't remember. Or he thinks he doesn't. It's only then that he realises Jody is talking to him like the nurses do, like he's about to split apart in rage any moment, like he's a temperamental child to be calmed.

Sam closes his eyes and tries to shift through the chaos. There's so much of the Cage, he was there for so long, it's like an eclipse over his life topside. Sometimes he recalls the face of Lucifer's first vessel more clearly than he can his own father's.

Dean. Dean was dead for the second time. Dead for good. And then he wasn't. He was here, and Sam...

"Oh, God," Sam says, remembering. He looks to Jody. "Did I... Is he okay?"

She smiles like the sun finally came out after a month of rain. "He's fine."

"Is he here? Can I see him? Does he want to see me?"

Jody grins and pats him on the knee. She takes him by the hand and pulls him to his feet, then leads him out of the rec room and into the empty hallway. But it's not empty. Not completely. There are a couple of orderlies standing by one wall.

And Dean is there.

Sam lets go of Jody's hand and crosses the hall in a second. He pauses right in front of Dean, hesitant to get any closer. Dean must hate him. Sam thinks of himself, filled up and high on it, the smell of Ruby all over him, pressing down on Dean's throat. _If you walk out that door, don't you ever come back._

"Come here, you big girl," Dean says, and yanks Sam into his arms. Sam could stay there forever, where the feel of Dean's heartbeat and the sound of his breath by Sam's ear is enough to drown out Lucifer's voice. Stone number one.

"I'm sorry," Sam says, over and over because once won't be enough. "I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry. I didn't know. I didn't know it was you. Don't let me forget. Don't let him trick me again."

Dean sighs, deep and weary, and tightens his grip. "Don't worry about it, little brother. I'll get you better."

And Sam believes him.

* * *

 **A/N:** I hope this is the reunion you were all hoping for. When I finished this chapter, I thought this could be a nice place to end the fic, with Sam and Dean finally back together. It seems like a fitting end after 9 chapters of them trying to find one another even when they were right next to each other. I may or may not add a little more, depending on if my imagination allows me. We'll see what happens, but for right now I'm leaving this hesitantly finished.

Thank you all so much for the reviews and follows.


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